When The Sun Goes Down
by Love Out Of Lust
Summary: I wrote these fics ages ago as a request for someone. They're stand alone fics, but I decided to make them into two chapters. I've changed them in that the history with Cam doesn't exist, so Walker and Brendan aren't enemies. In my version, they also slept together in the office after the kiss. It also includes some references to Ste.
1. Chapter 1

He had that old familiar ache in his body. The same ache that he'd felt his whole life, that he'd tried to silence, but no amount of denial had managed to bury. It seemed to reach into his bones, go to the very heart of him, from the tips of his toes to his head of dark brown hair, and finally settled around his cock, making it strain and feel uncomfortably tight in his pants.

Brendan Brady wanted to fuck someone, and he wanted it tonight.

He had a steady stream of connections that he could access. Chez Chez, where he'd found his first shag after leaving prison, the boy's lips eager and willing as he'd kissed him, a throng of dancers surrounding them, the beat of the music echoing in his eardrums.

He dismissed that idea almost immediately. Too close to home. He couldn't risk Cheryl seeing and asking questions. He should never have exposed her to that part of his life.

It was too late to go to a hotel, where he'd picked up a blonde lad and a bullet in the same night, marking him out as invincible, before he'd realised he was anything but.

He couldn't go to the place he most wanted to, the place where he'd been a thousand times before, like a path was forever leading him there, irresistible and dangerous. He'd close his eyes at night and his vision would be flooded with the beauty of him. Long lashes. Eyes so blue that they were like vast oceans. Lips red and pouting, and never more tempting than when they'd been rubbed raw by his moustache. A lithe, pliable body that was golden in colour, its skin as soft as velvet. Hair that was shaven at the sides, crying out to be nuzzled. Hands that were both delicate and firm, hands which grabbed and clasped and stroked and adored. Hands which Brendan liked to hold, even though he knew he shouldn't, because it made letting go that much harder. A cock that was smaller than his own, but no less impressive. The way it would stand up, thick and proud, covered in lightly coloured veins, surrounded by a smattering of dark, wiry public hair. A cock oozing with pre cum.

No, he couldn't go back there. He couldn't listen to the boy's addictive and pointless chatter. Hear that impossibly loud, filthy laugh. To be in his presence was to feel completely alive and completely dead at the same time. It thrilled him and terrified him. He didn't know what was worse, Steven looking at him with hate and revulsion, his lips meeting Douglas's like some form of private torture, or the boy inviting him in, forgiving him. Both carried their own kind of pain.

But that ache wouldn't go away.

He got out his phone, going through his list of contacts. His pulse juddered quickly as he moved past Lynsey's name, and then stilled as it landed on another's. He took an intake of breath, wondering whether to make the call. The last time had been...interesting. Not what he'd expected, but then nothing ever was with this particular man. He'd learnt that early on when they'd been in prison together. He'd stopped trying to second guess his motives, because he'd discovered that the man lived by his own set of rules and codes that Brendan didn't entirely understand, but which he had a strange sense of respect for. The man was a survivor, a fighter. He could relate.

Placing his finger on the call button, he waited as the dial tone began to connect.

"Hello?"

That same old smoky tone, its accent difficult to place. There was a certain masculinity to it, how deep it was, how suggestive he managed to make the most mundane of phrases. Brendan suddenly remembered that night in the office, how the man's voice had commanded him to go faster, to push in deeper. There had been no hint of uncertainty or nervousness. His voice had rang out loud and sure, and the sound of it had remained in Brendan's head afterwards, the way it had begged and pleaded, but yet had never been submissive, not for one second. He struggled to contain an all over body shudder at the thought of how he'd pounded into him, his senses feeling like they were being ripped apart. How the man had been deep and accommodating, rolling his hips up for more. And that voice, that had spoken through the darkness.

"_More, Brendan."_

"Hello, Walker."

There was silence for a moment. Was he surprised to get a call from him, at one o'clock in the morning? If he was, he hid it well.

"You alright?"

"I'm going to need you to come over." There was no point in prolonging this, not tonight. Not with the way he was feeling.

"Cheryl's at the club. Joel's at Theresa's." He lowered his tone, purposefully making it clear exactly what his intentions were.

"I'll be over in ten minutes."

Just like that.

* * *

When he heard a short, sharp knock on the door, Brendan stilled his movements. He'd been pacing ever since he'd made the call, restless, his hands fidgeting in anticipation. Putting down his glass of Jameson's, he slowly opened the door, then lent back against it, allowing Walker to move past him. He locked it afterwards. No one was going to interrupt them.

It was a cold night outside, and Walker had one of his trademark jackets on, zipped all the way to the top. Brendan held out his hand for it, and Walker took it off, exposing that long neck of his, the skin there having healed since their last encounter. There was no sign of the marks that Brendan had left there, the small indents of his teeth which had grazed over Walker's flesh. Walker smirked as he saw Brendan's eyes traveling over it.

"So, we're alone?" Walker asked, moving closer to Brendan, like a cat surveying its prey.

Brendan's eyes never left his.

"Business call, is it?" Walker continued, and he reached forwards, running his hands over Brendan's chest, which was frustratingly still covered by a shirt, its buttons undone just enough so that Walker could see the patchwork of hair that permeated Brendan's chest.

"Not exactly," Brendan said, and he grabbed hold of Walker's face, pulling it to his own. Their mouths immediately met, and they were like two starving men having their first meal. They devoured each others lips, sucking so hard that they felt the oncoming blood rising to the surface. It was a frenzy of tongues, warm and wet, and Brendan had to hold back a groan at the taste of Walker; sweet, heady and intoxicating.

He pushed him back towards the bedroom, and they never stopped kissing as they climbed the stairs. When they were on the landing, Brendan once again used his hands on Walker's chest to guide him to the bed. Walker's back made contact with the mattress, and the strength of Brendan caused him to start panting, trying to get his breath back after the wind had been knocked out of him. He was making the same obscene sound that he'd made when Brendan had pushed him against the wall in the office, and Brendan felt himself growing hard at the mere noise.

Brendan lay on top of him, their chests rubbing together, the friction of it causing them both to sweat through their clothes. Brendan kissed everywhere that he could get access to - Walker's mouth, his cheek, his neck, his jaw, until he sucked on his earlobe, enjoying the way that the tender flesh felt under his lips. He gripped Walker's earring in between his teeth, and the shiny silver metal tasted cold in comparison to the warmth of his ear. He tongued it, wetting the area with his saliva, as Walker's hands clawed at his back encouragingly. He was going to be left with scratch marks there tomorrow, but he didn't care. He wanted to be left with a mark of the man, the mark of sex.

Walker tried to flip him over, to have more leverage. Brendan could tell that he was torn between his desire to have control this time, and the way his body was already disintegrating at the seams, his cock tenting his trousers, his breath coming fast and shallow. It was pure power play, the way that both men fought for dominance, desperately trying to keep their emotions wrapped away as much as possible, held back from the other.

Walker's hands worked the buttons of Brendan's shirt, hastily trying to get them undone as quickly as possible. He burst one of the buttons in his need to see Brendan's naked flesh, and made a small, almost inaudible whining sound when Brendan stilled his movements. Brendan wasn't going to let Walker undress him first.

"Wait," he groaned, and it was an effort to do so. He tried to keep his voice measured.

"You first," he whispered heatedly into Walker's ear.

Walker drew back, and for the first time a slight frown appeared on his face.

"What?"

His hand remained on Brendan's chest, as if reluctant to let go.

"You take your clothes off first. In front of me. Stand." Brendan motioned to the carpet in front of the bed.

The uncertainty left Walker's face, and he trailed his hand slowly away from Brendan's chest as he stood. He stared into Brendan's eyes as he stood before him, and Brendan settled back onto the pillow, resting his arms around his head.

Walker's t-shirt landed in a heap on the floor. Brendan's eyes travelled from his face to his chest, taking in the bronzed figure before him. Walker's clothes masked the defined muscles that lay underneath, the pink, erect nipples that were designed to be licked. Walker smiled at him, knowing the effect that he had, and slowly ran his fingers over his chest, stroking the skin there. His eyes never left Brendan's.

Brendan felt his own hands go to his jeans, and they unbuckled them in on fluid motion. He reached into his boxers and felt his hands glide over his cock. It was already hard, and he spit into his palm before stroking it slowly, almost in time with Walker's own strokes on his chest. He could see Walker's pupils dilate from where he was sitting, and they seemed to grow darker with lust, as he stared down at Brendan's ministrations. Brendan's movements on his cock felt impossibly good. It was that level of satisfaction that he couldn't reach on his own unless he was thinking of Steven, and that only left him with a hollow twisting feeling in the pit of his stomach. He desperately wanted to take off his boxers and finger his hole, but then he saw Walker reach for his own trouser buckle, and Brendan's hands froze.

Being a spectator was no longer enough.

"Stop," he murmured, and raised his boxers to cover himself. He walked over to Walker, as the man's hands rested over the opening of his trousers. Walker stared at him curiously, his expression changing to that of raw desire as Brendan began to unzip him. When he had his trousers off, Brendan could see the light pubic hair that resided just below Walker's stomach. It was fair, far less noticeable than Brendan's own, but there was something about it that held Brendan's attention, and made him reach out his hands and touch it. It was like a promise of things to come.

Pulling down Walker's boxers so that they bundled around his ankles, Brendan's hand found its way to the base of his cock. It was large, even when flaccid, and even more so now that it was hard. Seven inches, Brendan guessed. Just enough for him to fuck him hard if occasion called for it, but not too much that he would gag. Not that that was a problem that Brendan had experienced in a long time.

Walker gave him a smug smile, as if recognising Brendan's fixation with it. He cocked his head to the side, as if offering a challenge. _Go on then, _he seemed to be saying. _Show me what you've got. _Brendan returned the smile, as his hand grazed over the foreskin. Walker fought to keep his eyes open as Brendan's hand moved, assuredly and expertly, stroking him in the way he knew drove him crazy. His head slumped forward, and he sucked down on Brendan's shoulder as he continued to run his hand over Walker's erect cock. He felt like he was going to burst. He scraped his teeth along Brendan's skin, trying to prevent himself from shouting out for Brendan to touch him faster. He wouldn't let Brendan have that satisfaction. Besides, there were other ways to make him satisfied.

Brendan knew the exact time when to stop. He could sense that Walker was close, and he wanted the man to be writhing in need for him when he fucked him, not coming before the main event. It took a great deal of effort to withdraw his hand. Walker's mouth unclosed from around his shoulder, and he looked at Brendan with heated eyes and spit slicked lips. He stubbornly tried to place Brendan's hand back on his cock, but Brendan laughed throatily.

"Patience, yeah?"

Walker knew the power was shifting, and roughly threw Brendan back onto the bed, before crawling on top of him. He straddled Brendan, staring down at him with glazed eyes. He then reached over to the side of the bed, making sure that he kept Brendan in place with his legs. He opened the small bag that he had brought with him, and removed a dildo, holding it firmly in his palm. It felt rubbery and cold, but Walker had learnt that Brendan liked it. It was smaller in size than either of them, but Brendan seemed to prefer it that way, for reasons that Walker couldn't fathom. Brendan had discovered that Walker had an array of toys and devices, handcuffs and dildos being his specialty.

He spread his legs eagerly now, as far as they would open. Walker squirted some lube from a new bottle that he had brought, rubbing it over the dildo until it was shining. He wasn't too concerned with hurting Brendan. He knew that the man could take the pain, that it lived side by side with pleasure for him.

He teasingly placed the dildo over Brendan's hole, rubbing it against it again and again. Brendan moaned, trying to push back against it for more, but Walker refused him every time, keeping up his game, making Brendan lick his lips from wanting it so much. Walker pushed in a little deeper each time, then withdrew before Brendan's insides had encased it all. After doing this several times, Brendan grabbed hold of Walker's wrist and forced it forward, making the dildo enter into his anus. He sighed as Walker relented in his back and forth, and gave Brendan what he wanted. He kissed down on the man's lips as he moved the dildo, filling Brendan up entirely. Brendan's natural position had always been to top. There was something about having that control over someone, of being so deeply inside them that he got off on. There was nothing else like it. But sometimes, he just wanted to be fucked. He wanted someone pushing against that pleasure spot right inside him, that made his toes curl and his body come off the bed. Walker relished this need in him, and he drove the dildo in, reveling in the way that Brendan's cheeks were flushed, sweat dripping from his forehead. He uttered profanities under his breath, including a long drawn out _"Walker" _when he moved the dildo inside him in a way that had Brendan's cock growing to even larger proportions.

But the games weren't over, and Brendan owed Walker for his teasing before. He withdrew the dildo slowly, and Brendan stared up at him, spread eagled from where he lay, his arm pit hair fluffy and damp from his exertions. Walker licked a trail down it, the musky flavour filling his mouth, the hair soft. He wanted to taste every inch of this man. Every dark, dirty inch.

"Your turn," Walker propositioned, his eyebrows raised. This is how things worked between them, the constant shift between Walker being in charge, leading things, testing Brendan's limits, to Brendan making him do his bidding, exposing Walker's vulnerability, the strength of his passion for him.

Brendan grinned at him, the challenge accepted. He roughly rolled them both over, so Walker landed on his back, Brendan on top. He scooted closer to him, his ass traveling from Walker's chest to his face, before his cock dangled in front of Walker's lips. Brendan made sure not to lean his full body weight on him so he didn't crush the man. Walker's lips parted hungrily as he surveyed Brendan's cock, and his hands reached out to massage the tendrils of Brendan's flexed back. Walker opened his mouth, ready to take in Brendan's full girth, wanting to suck him into oblivion, so that all he was left with was a twitch of body movements.

But Brendan had other ideas. He could think of other uses for Walker's mouth.

He moved closer to the front of the bed, so that his ass came into further contact with Walker's lips, a silent plea for Walker to rim him. Walker held Brendan securely in place with his hands, and his tongue lapped at his hole like a thirsty cat. It was soft in there, dark hair covering Brendan's hole, and Walker's tongue coiled and twisted, succeeding in making Brendan as wet as possible. Brendan rocked back and forth, setting the pace. He fucked himself on Walker's mouth while fisting his own cock, and Walker pulled him down closer, to give him better access. The taste of Brendan was indescribable, and Walker knew he wanted more of it. Brendan gripped the sheets, his knuckles white, until even that wasn't enough. He smashed his hand against the wall, swearing at the top of his lungs as Walker's tongue drove into him repeatedly. It was acting out what Brendan's cock most desperately wanted to do, and if he didn't get inside Walker soon, he'd come all over his stomach and Walker's face. The thought of Walker licking his cum only made him more aroused, and he moved down in the bed, and had Walker's legs wrapped around his waist in an instant, so quickly that Walker's tongue was still visible, still feeling as though it was prickling from its movements.

Despite his size, Walker was flexible, and could have easily hooked his legs around Brendan's shoulders if he'd needed to. But Brendan didn't have time for that. He inserted a slick finger inside of him, searching and stretching, watching as Walker's face creased at the feel of it. Ideally Brendan would have liked to add a third finger, but he stopped after the second, his desire to be inside the man almost feral.

Putting a condom on and using the lube, he lined himself up, then hesitated at Walker's entry. He needed to hear it.

"Fuck me, Brendan."

He entered him then. Brendan wasn't the only one who was a masochist. Walker relished the feeling of being torn in two. It burned, but he knew what was on the other side of it, how it felt when Brendan got going. He waited.

Brendan's thrusts started out unhurriedly, his hands gripping at Walker's chest, his nails digging in. They both liked it fast though, and neither was in the mood to play games now. Brendan moved quicker, watching as Walker's eyes seemed to get larger and larger, his mouth parted in a 'O' shape. Brendan was the biggest man Walker had been with, but as he pounded into him, his cock hitting his prostate, Walker never wanted him to stop. He'd happily tie Brendan up in his room for all eternity, being fucked so hard by him that his balls throbbed like they were going to explode.

They both hated to let the other see them in the rawest stages of desire. There was something primal about it, something that they tried to conceal from the other, lest they used it against them. But with Brendan's thrusts increasing in their speed, and Walker fitting around him like a glove, both men couldn't help but scream out the others name.

They fell off the bed, and Brendan quickly repositioned himself before continuing, the carpet burning them as they moved against it. Brendan whispered in his ear when he was close to coming, and Walker wrapped a hand around his cock and jerked himself off, so that when they came, they came together, a pent up release inside both of them that was almost painful in its execution.

They lay exhausted in each others arms, Walker's stomach sticky with his own cum. Brendan discarded the condom, his legs aching as he walked over to throw it in the bin. He was sweating profusely, and his heart was still hammering. He needed to cool down.

"You want a shower?"

Walker looked him over. He was lying on the floor, his legs still open, his cock now soft. He nodded, and Brendan reached out a hand to him, hoisting him up.

They stepped underneath the water, Walker raising his face to the jet stream, allowing it to soak his face. His hair was glistening, and Brendan stroked it with his fingertips, enjoying the feel of its soft wetness. He got out a bottle of shower gel and squirted some over them, rubbing it into Walker's chest. Walker returned the favour, paying particular attention to Brendan's stiff pink nipples. After showering them clean, he lent forward and tongued them, suckling on the delicate area. Brendan made a guttural sound, fingering the back of Walker's head, smoothing over the spot in circular movements. Walker sucked on Brendan's nipple roughly, his tongue darting out and moistening it, so that it gleamed with saliva when he removed his lips.

"Good boy," Brendan said, and he gave him his reward. Leaning back on his knees, Brendan soaped over Walker's groin, massaging his cock. Walker watched him from his position against the tiles, allowing the warm water to run over them.

Brendan started at Walker's thighs, licking the light hair there, creating a wet patch. He then moved towards his balls, and put his mouth around them. Walker encouraged his head closer, and Brendan sucked at the loose sack, his tongue landing on the underside. Walker's responsiveness led Brendan on further, and he dropped his balls from his mouth, and grasped the base of Walker's cock. He puts his lips around it, feeding it into his mouth, shivering at the feel of the skin rubbing against his gums.

As the water continued to wash over them, both men knew unequivocally that they would both be back there, in that same flat, time and time again.


	2. Chapter 2

Five hours they'd been sitting in that room, going through the exact details of the deal. If Walker and Brendan had been organising it alone, it would have taken less than half that time, but they were stuck with a contact they had in Bournemouth, a man whose mouth was as large as his connections. He'd needed every detail ironed out, until Brendan had the strong desire to lock him in the nearest cupboard, and call off the whole thing.

Sometimes he wondered why he still went away on these trips. It had been fun at first, the thrill of it. He'd even successfully used it to tease Steven, when he'd taken away that dumb blonde Carmel to Barcelona. But Steven was...well, he was no longer part of the equation. Firmly off limits to him.

The money was a factor, of course it was. But even he had to admit that wasn't it. Perhaps it was the man walking alongside the sand with him now. Light brown hair, down to his ears. Sculptured cheekbones. Eyes which seem to observe everything and everyone. A curved, distinctive mouth with firm, plumped lips. A neck which is so often covered by a jacket, except for the rare times when Brendan has access to it, and sees its elongated shape. A muscular body which somehow moves with a strange kind of gracefulness.

Walker sits down on the sand lazily, his sprawling limbs making imprints.

"Come on, lets go home."

It's getting dark, and Brendan wants to start the journey back to Chester before Joel and Cheryl start calling him, worrying about his prolonged absence.

"We're not driving like this."

He still holds the bottle of whiskey that they'd brought for the meeting, in lieu of celebration, but really to give their mouths and hands something to do while they steeled themselves for an afternoon of being talked at.

The bottle's still relatively full, but Brendan can sense Walker's slightly slurred speech, and the feeling of warmth that is spreading through his own body. He could protest against being on this deserted beach as the sun's coming down, but he finds he doesn't have the incentive to move. He instead slumps down on the sand with Walker, taking the offered bottle and swallowing down the comforting liquid.

It reminds him of being back home, and he feels the tension that's been on his shoulders ease off for the first time that day, that week, that month. They can both hear the sounds of the sea, and its soothing nature renders them both quiet for several minutes as they sit alongside each other, sharing the whiskey between them, their hands brushing against one another's as they pass the bottle.

Walker reaches out suddenly and begins undoing his shoes. Brendan watches out of the corner of his eye as his bare feet are revealed, and Walker buries them beneath the sand. He then lies back, his hands behind his head, resting against them. The movement has caused Walker's shirt to ride up the smallest amount, and Brendan catches a glimpse of his exposed stomach, and the fair, almost blonde hairs that lie scattered on it, leading to his groin.

Brendan unconsciously wets his lips, moistening them. His mind travels back to that rarely spoken about night in the office. Walker bent over his desk, Brendan's cock up his arse, thrusting into the man so hard that the entire desk had shifted forward. His body had felt almost raw afterwards, sated beyond belief. He hadn't fucked someone that way in a long time.

Since then they'd worked hard to keep it strictly business between them. Although he would never say it, Brendan privately thought that they made a pretty good team. Walker understood him. It just...worked.

Brendan lies back in the sand with him. He allows his own shirt to bundle slightly around his lower stomach, so that his darker hair is on display. He sees Walker's eyes flicker over it, drinking him in.

He knows that Walker has a particular fascination with his body hair. His eyes had glazed over it last time, his hands stroking it. It didn't seem to matter which area it was - chest, stomach, groin, arse - Walker had leisurely trailed his fingers over it, then wet the area with his mouth, coating it in a light sheen of spit. He had paid the most attention to Brendan's entrance, tonguing the scattered, soft hairs around his hole, making them damp with his ministrations.

Brendan knows they are both thinking about it.

He stretches, allowing his arm to brush against Walker's. The man turns his face towards him, and it is hard and solid, but his voice is soft, suggestive, enticing.

"Want to play a game?"

Brendan swallows. He can imagine the kind of games Walker enjoys playing.

"Like what?" He can't help but reveal his curiosity.

Walker smiles, those beautiful lips of his curving upwards. His head tilts towards the sea.

"Fancy a swim?"

"Now?"

He nods boldly, his eyes never leaving Brendan's.

"It's freezing in there, you know."

"I didn't think you were afraid of anything, Brendan."

Brendan pauses, not failing to notice the way Walker's eyes are animated, bright with possibility.

"What's the game?"

The same old, familiar smirk registers on Walker's face.

"I won't be wearing any clothes."

Brendan raises his eyebrows.

"Neither will you."

Brendan takes another sip of whiskey.

Sometimes, you don't let anyone in. It's easier that way. No one gets hurt. You go to work, you see your sister, your kids. Everything is controlled, regimented. You forget about the things that make you feel alive, the buzz that you can get from them. And it works, for a little while. But not forever. Never forever.

Brendan can feel that same buzz now, coursing through him. An ache in his bones that is crying out for relief. A need to be buried in someones heat, and to be filled so completely that it knocks the very breath out of him. He could get it anywhere. The club. Hotels. Anonymous bars where no one knows who he is, what he's done.

But he doesn't want it from anywhere. He wants it here, with this man, because he can't shake the sense that there is something he can give him which is almost carnal, something which reaches right to the heart of him.

"What's in it for me?"

Walker laughs. "I think you know."

Brendan can't help but smile in anticipation.

Yeah, he knows.

"You first, then."

Walker lays the whiskey bottle on the ground, and stretches his arms above his head, discarding his jacket and t-shirt in one clean motion. Brendan surveys his golden skin, the clenched, taut abdominal muscles.

Fuck, he's gorgeous.

"Your turn," Walker challenges, and Brendan can hear the lightest hint of playfulness in his voice.

He is enjoying this.

Brendan undoes his shirt buttons slowly, exposing his chest inch by inch, until the dark hair shows through. He still has that solidness to him that he developed when they were both in prison, and Walker's eyes linger over it, allowing his own excitement to build. Soon all that covers Brendan's chest is the dangling silver cross, gleaming in the near darkness.

"Pants next," Walker says matter of factly, but he is betrayed by the merest stutter in his voice, hinting at his own arousal.

"Someone's being bossy tonight, Simon."

He stares him down, until Walker's hands reach to his own buckle, and he unzips his jeans, standing up to pull them loosely down to his ankles, and then over his exposed feet. He is wearing a pair of boxer briefs, tight, and they cling to him wonderfully, highlighting his balls and cock. Brendan considers leaning forward and running his tongue over the material, wetting the cotton, making it tent. But he holds back. They have all the time in the world for that.

Walker looks at Brendan expectantly, and he rises alongside him. Their eyes never break contact as Brendan pulls off his jeans, leaving them in a sandy heap on the floor. Walker's hands clench, trying not to reach forwards and stroke Brendan's cock through his black boxers.

Walker wordlessly makes a movement over to the sea, and starts to walk towards it. Brendan takes a look around the beach, then back at his clothes, but it is deserted, and he decides it'll be safe. He follows, and the two men continue until their feet brush against the coolness of the water.

Walker turns to him. "You look like you could use some help there."

He puts his hands either side of Brendan's hips, settling on his boxers. He stares into Brendan's eyes for a moment, as if requesting permission. Brendan knows he should shrug him off, reaffirm his control, but his fingers are making circular motions against his skin, and he melts into the touch.

He nods slowly, granting his acquiescence, and Walker pulls his boxers down, exposing Brendan's cock. It's soft between his legs, his ball sack loose and dangling. Brendan steps forward, so he's close enough to whisper in Walker's ear.

"Now yours."

Walker nods eagerly, and Brendan pulls down his briefs, bending to his knees to do so, so that Walker's cock is at his eye level. Brendan's hands grip onto Walker's arse cheeks. Walker swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. Brendan learnt in the office that he has a liking for having his cock and balls sucked slowly. Brendan deep throated him, and when his mouth would slacken, Walker would gently guide his head back down there, thrusting himself as far into Brendan's mouth as he could get.

Brendan stands to his feet once more, and laughs throatily as he sees the look of disappointment on Walker's face.

Horny bastard.

Walker tries to mask his expression, and kicks at the water by his feet instead, causing it to ripple.

"You ever done this before?"

"No," Brendan answers honestly. "You?"

"No," Walker lies.

Walker steps closer to the water. The cold is a shock at first, even though he knew it was coming. Brendan can see the goosebumps appearing on his skin. Walker gives his body a shake, as if trying to dismantle them, and then wades into the water until it's level with his chest. He hears a sound behind him, and realises that Brendan's joined him. Brendan swims over to him, and disappears under the water once, before reemerging with wet, shining hair, swept back from his face. His moustache has little drops of sea water attached to it, and Walker knows his lips would be salty to taste.

Walker lies on his back floating, staring up at the sky as he registers Brendan lightly swimming around him. Brendan didn't realise how amazing this would feel, how liberating. After the initial discomfort of the cold water, his body now feels freed from the confines of restriction and clothing.

He feels almost like a kid again, light, energetic, playful. Noticing how Walker is closing his eyes, he splashes him with the water, and the man looks at him in surprise. Brendan laughs loudly, and after a moment Walker's face relaxes, and he splashes Brendan in return.

They both try to swim away from each others movements, the beach being filled by the sound of laughter. Brendan circles close to him, and Walker suddenly moves towards him, leaning forwards to press his lips to Brendan's. Brendan pulls back, looking at Walker. His pupils are dilated, his eyes wide, his lips bee stung, impossibly red already. His breathing has gotten harsher. Brendan feels his own groin twitch just from watching this man, from seeing how much he wants it.

He kisses him, and they both use their legs to stay afloat, kicking lightly beneath the water. Brendan anchors Walker's face towards his by placing a hand on his cheek, and Walker takes that as confirmation, his tongue massaging against Brendan's, moaning into his mouth.

Walker loves the prickliness of Brendan's moustache across his upper lip. With the force of how Brendan's kissing him, he'll be left with a pink rash there the following day, but he doesn't care. He likes these marks and signs of sex. It will be proof - of what they've done here, of how good they made each other feel.

Brendan's hands extend lower and lower, until they settle around Walker's thighs. Walker claws his back desperately, the result of being starved of any sexual contact between them for months. He has never been with someone like Brendan before - so dominant, in every sense. There is a pleasure to it that scares and delights him. With Brendan, he feels like every nerve ending he has is burning into a thousand flames.

They explore each others mouths ferociously, and it is both enough, and never enough. They need to feel that connection, and Brendan thinks he'll start touching himself if he isn't inside Walker soon. He breaks off and heads back to shore wordlessly. Walker follows, no explanation needed.

The sand becomes darker as it's covered in their wet footprints. Their cocks stand erect on their stomachs, all nine and seven inches. They stare at each other unashamedly, both of them panting from their exertions and their increasing arousal.

"Lie down," Brendan demands, his eyes dark, and Walker follows his instructions, his legs spread widely.

Brendan gets to his knees and crawls over to him. He reclaims Walker's lips, kissing them with such passion that he bites him, and Walker draws away, staring at him hungrily.

"I don't have any lube..."Brendan says apologetically.

"Just use spit."

Brendan doesn't want to hurt him, but it'll have to do. He didn't envisage this when they had set out for Bournemouth. Walker is spread eagled in front of him now, looking like a fucking Greek God, his eyes full of lustful intent. He can't bear to break the spell.

Brendan trails his tongue over Walker's lips, then rolls onto his back.

"Get on me."

Walker tries to climb on top of Brendan, but Brendan stills him with his hands.

"No," he says softly. "Other way."

Walker looks confused for a moment, and then smiles knowingly, mischievously.

He gently climbs on top of Brendan and bends his legs, his large frame settling so that his hole is positioned close to Brendan's lips, his own mouth tickling against Brendan's cock.

Brendan laps at Walker's hole, feeling the scant, delicious hairs brushing against his tongue. Walker clenches his arse at the feeling, and Brendan smoothes his palms over it to relax him, enjoying the soft skin under his fingertips. Walker positions his arse back further, coaxing Brendan to coil his tongue in deeper.

His hands move to stroke Walker's back, reminding him that he has needs of his own which require some attention. He feels Walker's mouth on his cock then. He is good at this. Very, very good. Enthusiastic, but he knows how to pace himself so that Brendan doesn't come too soon. He alternates between short, teasing licks along the shaft, and encasing his cock fully, his nose buried in Brendan's pubic hair, breathing in his scent.

Walker has never been with someone as big as Brendan, but he relishes the way his mouth adjusts around the girth of him, trying to take as much in as possible. Brendan grips his hand into the sand at the pressure of Walker's lips. At times it stops him from remembering to use his own tongue, and Walker wiggles his arse slightly in Brendan's direction, acting as a reminder. Brendan concentrates on opening him up, until he senses from Walker's wetness and puckered, pink, stretched entrance that he is ready.

Walker's mouth has dropped to Brendan's balls, and Brendan eases him off him reluctantly, Walker dropping the loose, soft, hairy sack from his lips.

A condom. He needs a condom. Shit. He never forgets these things. He has always been safe, no matter what happens. It was something he learnt when he started going out with Eileen. It would all be okay, he could keep it locked away, keep her protected, as long as he used a condom.

"I don't..."

Walker seems to read his mind, because he digs in the pocket of his jeans which are lying discarded in the sand next to them, and takes out a foil packet.

Perhaps Brendan wasn't prepared for this, but it sure as hell looks like Walker was.

"Put it on me, won't you?"

Walker rips it open and slowly slips it onto Brendan's cock, making him shiver from the action.

Brendan puts his hands either side of Walker's head on the sand, and encourages him to raise his legs onto his shoulders. Walker is larger than the other boys he's been with before, but no less flexible. He bends his legs easily, giving Brendan access to his entrance, their chests flush against one another.

Walker places a hand over Brendan's cock, and Brendan lays a hand on top of his. They guide his cock to Walker's entrance together, both so frantic for it that they are almost shaking.

When it breaches Walker, he takes an intake of breath, closing his eyes. Brendan strokes down the side of his face.

"You okay?"

Walker nods, biting his lip. Brendan repositions and pushes in again, watching as his cock disappears into Walker's tight hole. It is mesmerizing, a sight he could happily get used to.

He starts slowly, allowing Walker time to adjust to it, and making each thrust as deep and sensual as possible. Walker reaches out a hand and runs it along Brendan's leg, touching the thick hair that covers it.

"Simon."

"Mmm." Walker sounds distant, as though he's floating.

"Open your eyes."

"Why?" He murmurs idly.

"I want to see you when I make you come."

Walker smirks. "You're a dirty fucker, aren't you Brady?"

But he opens them nonetheless, returning Brendan's gaze intently.

Brendan's movements increase, and a small sigh is released from Walker.

"You like that?"

Walker's face creases in desire.

"I said, do you like that?"

"I love it," he breathes, massaging Brendan's back.

"Good." Brendan kisses him along his jaw, burying himself further inside of him, balls deep.

Brendan can smell the saltiness of the sea, but Simon tastes sweet.

Their bodies are wet from the water and their sweat, but the friction spikes their arousal further, until Walker is begging him to hold nothing back.

"I want to touch myself." Walker's cock feels like it's bursting, and he needs to finish this.

"Do it."

Walker wraps a hand around himself, stroking frantically as Brendan pounds into the wonderful heat of the man. Brendan feels his internal muscles contract, and when they come it is together, holding each other closely in the comedown.

It is growing darker and colder, but they feel warm against each other, listening to the sound of the sea, and the calm it brings.


End file.
